


Speak

by Snegurochka



Category: Verbotene Liebe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-05
Updated: 2008-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:10:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything about Oliver led to feelings that Christian could never put into words, never say out loud. Once they were said, that would be it, and that was the most terrifying thought of all.</p><p>4,800 words. NC-17. My attempt at their first fade-to-black sex scene. September 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to islandsmoke for the beta help.

Christian couldn't speak.

Oliver already had his own shirt off and was reaching for his belt, and in between the sounds of the zip lowering and the material crunching, he was still leaning in and kissing Christian like the oxygen they needed to breathe came from each other's mouths, not from the air around them, and the entire room puffed with fog on the edges of Christian's mind, because this was Oliver, _Olli_, whose lips were on his and whose fingers were sliding down his chest and whose– okay, God, whose body was pressing him to the mattress, and just, just –

He couldn't speak.

"Okay?" whispered Olli, pulling back a fraction to look into Christian's eyes, and no, fuck, that wasn't the right question, because that gave him time to think, to reconsider, to shove Olli off and come to his bloody senses and get off this bed right now, _now_, and storm out of the room and not look back. That wasn't the right question, because God, yes, it was okay; it was more than okay, you fucking bastard, it was making Christian's skin heat and his hands tremble and his dick throb so hard he didn't know if he wanted to wrap his fist around it and or just chop it off and never think about it again, because he would never forgive it for this, never let the fucking thing forget that it had brought him _here_, to this, to Olli's mouth on his neck and Olli's hands sliding down to –

He couldn't say any of that.

Christian nodded, closing his eyes because he couldn't watch, didn't want to watch, wanted nothing _but_ to watch, but behind darkened eyelids it might not be real. He might be able to convince himself that it was just another one of his insane dreams, the ones where Olli pushed back the door to Christian's bedroom in the middle of the night and sauntered in, his lips wet and his eyes predatory, the ones where he covered Christian's mouth with one hand and his dick with the other, pushing him back against the sheets until he couldn't move and then wanking him slowly and watching his wide eyes squeeze closed in mounting pleasure. But that didn't help, _Christ_, and Christian opened his eyes again because the dream was real, Olli was here, Olli was nearly naked now, and oh, God, okay, Olli was the most gorgeous fucking creature Christian had ever seen, and that, no, _that_ was not helping matters whatsoever, and –

He couldn't ignore what he wanted. Not anymore.

He sat up abruptly and crushed his mouth to Oliver's, all the anger and frustration and pure, blinding need he'd been shoving down for weeks now burning through him and dictating his actions. He still felt the rush of adrenaline from his shouting match with Oliver just five bloody minutes ago, and the way all that rage was morphing into pure passion right before his eyes was something he couldn't examine too closely yet.

Whatever Oliver's alter ego had said to him in that stupid chat room had been right in one respect: all he'd needed to do was kiss Olli again, and he would know. He would _know_ whether to keep going or forget him forever, and as much as he might have wished for the latter to happen, it wasn't even close. There was no way he could forget this forever, or even for one second, because Oliver's mouth was exactly as he'd imagined it would be and more – soft and warm but with all the strength of a square jaw behind the kiss, his tongue thick and insistent where Coco's had always been light and teasing, and there was just no contest, none at all, as to which Christian wanted right now.

"God," he choked out against Oliver's mouth, his breath heavy and his forehead pressed to Oliver's, and his hands seemed to have locked in place against Oliver's skin, clutching at his biceps and unable to move, even to undress himself. "I can't," he panted. "I mean, I just–" _No_, God, don't say that, you stupid fuck. His mind raced. Don't say _can't_; that wasn't what he meant. Oliver had to know that wasn't what he meant. _You have to know, you have to, because I can't tell you, I can't, I can't, I –_

"I know," breathed Oliver, and Christian let his head fall back in relief, as Oliver's hands worked to rid himself and then Christian of their remaining clothing, sliding the jacket off Christian's shoulders and lifting the t-shirt up. Smooth hands moved over Christian's chest as Oliver worked his way under the fabric, brushing over Christian's nipples and soothing his heated skin, and it was all Christian could do to keep the groan in his chest from rising up and embarrassing him. He closed his eyes when the shirt blocked his face for a second, letting the cooler air hit his skin before the shirt slid free of his right arm and dropped to the floor, and then he couldn't help it, couldn't wait another second; he pushed himself up on his knees as Olli did the same, wanting the heat from Olli's chest to burn through his, wanting nothing more than to feel Oliver's body against him.

It was so different with Coco and the other women: round breasts pressing into his chest, filling his hands, swinging over him or flattening out underneath him. He'd never been too sure what to do with them, and even though the comparison flitted across his mind, he couldn't be bothered with missing a woman's body right now. His fingers inched over Oliver's flat chest, dipping into muscle and smoothing over the tight planes of his stomach, and the feel of it radiated from Christian's fingertips through the rest of his body, firing up neurons he didn't even know he had. His dick throbbed again, almost painfully this time, straining against his jeans with every movement of his fingers over Olli's chest, and he didn't think he would ever be able to make sense of this, ever be able to explain it to himself or anyone else, but he wanted it, _badly_, wanted to get his jeans off and press up against Olli and just, just– He didn't even know what would happen after that, and he didn't care.

"Shhh, okay," murmured Oliver, and Christian realised he had been making small noises in the back of his throat, whimpering and breathing and he didn't even know what else, but it didn't matter, did it? Oliver would never laugh at him for not knowing what to do or what to say. Would he? Squeezing his eyes shut again for a brief moment, Christian pushed that thought down and tried to focus only on the feel of Olli's hands as they unzipped his jeans and began to push them down. "Okay," Oliver whispered again, gently guiding him down onto his back and peeling his jeans off. "You're okay." He paused, throwing the jeans to the floor and gazing up Christian's body. "You're– God, you're amazing, aren't you?" He crawled back up, kneeling over Christian and looking down at him, and Christian fought the urge to close his eyes again. He couldn't block this out or ignore it anymore. This was real. They were finally in bed together, naked and hard and trembling and it wasn't a dream or a fantasy; it was _real_.

There were too many things Christian wanted to say, and he couldn't get any of the words out.

Smiling down at him with that look of pure wonder on his face, the one he always seemed to wear when Christian was around, Oliver leaned in and kissed him again, his hands planted on either side of Christian's shoulders and his knees straddling Christian's hips. Christian hauled him down without even thinking about it, wrapping one hand around the back of Oliver's neck and the other across his muscled back, flattening Olli's body over his and grinding up against it. Breathless, he bit at Olli's lips and moaned, his hips moving all on their own, thrusting up slowly against Olli and letting the pleasure cascade through his body. Christ, this was good. Oliver's breath was hot against his mouth and his dick was hard against Christian's, and oh God, oh fuck, they were _naked_, and this body pinning him down was fucking perfect, this perfect fucking creature twisting his hips against him, and Christian could barely form any coherent thoughts anymore.

"Olli," he breathed, trying to keep his body under control and not do something too embarrassing, like– like– Well, fuck it, he didn't even know what gay guys got embarrassed by. With Coco, the faux pas would have been coming too soon, before he was inside her, or not being able to find her clit, because Jesus, it seemed to be on a different bloody place on every girl, or – oh, man, he cringed even as he remembered it – not being able to get hard for her at all. What would embarrass him now? Touching Oliver the wrong way, or not knowing how to do this, or– Shit. _Shit_. He struggled up to his elbows, sitting up halfway on the bed and breathing hard, staring at Oliver and wondering, for that long moment, why a guy like Olli would even want to be here with him, when he didn't have a clue what he was doing and didn't _want_ to know.

He covered his face with his hand and turned away, and he felt Olli freeze over top of him, pushing himself up on his hands. Time stopped for several long, agonising seconds, as Christian's mind raced but his body refused to move. He ran his hand up through his hair, chancing a glance at Oliver and swallowing hard, but Oliver– oh God, thank God, he wasn't getting up to leave, and he wasn't trying to soothe Christian or make him talk about this or ask him what he was feeling. Thank fucking God for Oliver, because Christian couldn't put it all into words now if he tried, and Oliver knew that; he had to know, because nothing else could explain the way he only smiled gently at Christian before narrowing his eyes and sitting up again, straddling Christian's hips and then, okay, _then_ he– he –

Christian couldn't speak but he could moan, and he did – loudly and without restraint – as he watched Oliver grasp his own prick and slide the tip up Christian's shaft, slow and wet and so fucking controlled. Christian sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and fixed his gaze on what Oliver was doing, touching him with light but insistent fingers, smoothing his hands over Christian's thighs and hips and underneath to cup his balls and press against them, just slightly, before gliding up his prick and back down, and Jesus, fuck, this was, this was –

"Oh my God," panted Christian, the syllables coming out in a rush of sound and breath, and Olli grinned, sweeping his tongue over his bottom lip and guiding his dick over Christian's again, spreading the moisture between them and tracing over Christian's length with his own. He could barely control his body's response. Every nerve ending surged to life, heat spreading through him from the pit of his stomach up through his fingertips, and his hands trembled as he grasped either side of Olli's face and dragged him down again, crushing their mouths together as Olli's prick pressed down into his, and God, he wanted more, he wanted everything, all of it; whatever it would be, he wanted it.

He broke the kiss and sat up again, newly determined not to be the blushing virgin here. What the hell was the matter with him, anyway? He wanted this. He fucking wanted it, so he should be a fucking man and go after it. He had never been shy with Coco, and Jesus, Oliver's body was a hell of a lot easier to figure out than hers; he was fairly certain that what he himself liked wouldn't be too far off from what Oliver would like, and that thing with their pricks just now, that had felt bloody incredible. He pushed Olli back and reversed their positions, letting Olli fall with a soft _plunk_ and a surprised smile onto his back before crawling over him and pressing his dick into Olli's, watching intently as Olli's face crumpled and his back arched. He dragged his dick up Olli's and shuddered again at the racing sensation that spread through his body, amplified by the thrill of watching Olli's unguarded reaction to it.

Growing bolder, he grasped the base of his prick and dragged it lower, over Oliver's balls and then down between his legs, driven by burning curiosity and a fog of lust that wouldn't even let him think twice about it anymore. He didn't know what he was doing but he was quite sure he couldn't just slide inside, so he pumped his hips a bit experimentally, the pressure of Oliver's thighs and the cleft of his arse warm around Christian's prick, and Jesus, _that_ felt bloody incredible, too. Olli had one fist clenched in the sheets and the other tight around Christian's wrist, and he was moving against Christian, pressing down and back and tensing his thighs, tightening the pressure around Christian's prick, and God, fucking God, this was –

"Here," murmured Oliver, his face flushed and his chest heaving as he guided Christian's hand to his dick, wrapping it together with his and beginning to pump slowly.

Christian froze for a second, wetting his lips and locking his gaze on his fingers where they were touching Oliver. _There it is_, he found himself thinking, as if _this_ were some line-crossing moment whereas the rest of what they had been doing had remained safely on the other side. _I'm touching a guy's dick_. Oliver let his own hand drop away as Christian found a rhythm, exploring Oliver's length with light fingers before fisting him with more surety. A dirty thought crossed his mind, and he went with it before he could question it or block it out: catching Oliver's gaze, he lifted his hand away briefly and brought it up to his mouth, wetting his palm and fingers and then pausing again on his way back down to lift his own dick from between Oliver's legs, swiping the drops of moisture from the tip and smoothing them over his palm as well. By the time he wrapped his hand around Oliver's cock again, still full of friction but with a slippery edge, Oliver was panting and thrusting his hips up to meet him, the heel of one hand pressed to his forehead.

Oliver was going to come.

The realisation of it made Christian suck in another breath through parted lips, his eyes still locked on Olli's cock as it surged through Christian's fingers. He recognised it in the tension mounting in Oliver's body, the way his thighs were stiffening and his chest had caved in as he clenched his stomach muscles and leaned forward, crunching up towards Christian and biting on his lower lip. He was going to come, and it was going to be because of Christian's hand, Christian's solid fingers fisting his dick, Christian's naked body over top of him, and Jesus, the knowledge of it crashed over Christian like a tidal wave.

He couldn't tear his eyes away and he couldn't stop the motion of his hand, obsessed now with bringing Oliver to the edge and watching him tumble over, watching his face crumple and his eyes squeeze shut and the cords of his neck flutter when he arched his back and flattened out, and then it was happening, Oliver was groaning deep and low, his lips parted and his fist tight against his forehead. Christian was so entranced with Olli's face that he nearly jerked away in surprise when he felt the first bursts of wetness over his hand, and his gaze fell to Olli's cock, pulsing in Christian's fist as strands of come coated his palm and fingers and ran down his wrist. Olli was panting now, his face flushed and his eyes wide and his mouth twisted in a smile that fell somewhere between amazement and gratitude, and God, okay, Christian could really, _really_ get used to that smile and that look on Olli's face, sated and sexed out, with every single emotion open to read in the curve of his lips.

But the moment threatened to overwhelm him, and as Christian lifted his hand away, the stain on it seemed to burn through his skin. He raised it in front of his face and stared, Olli's come still sliding down his fingers, and it was nearly too much – the proof that he had just let himself wrap that hand around a guy's cock, pumping him until he came, was almost too much to take. He sat back on his heels and dropped his eyes, and suddenly his own frustrated prick didn't even matter. He should leave. He should get up and leave right that very second, because no, God, he couldn't do this, it was too– it was –

"Come here," said Olli softly, climbing up to his knees again and running light hands up and down Christian's arms, up over his shoulders and then all the way down to his wrists, the rhythm of it soothing him instantly. Christian sank back down to the bed and sighed, closing his eyes and trying to calm his nerves. "Okay," whispered Olli close to his ear, and then his lips were on Christian again, dropping light kisses up his neck and jaw until he reached his mouth. Christian leaned into him before he could stop himself, letting Olli take his face between strong hands and control the kiss, their lips moving together again, building up to that same level of hunger that had got them to this bed in the first place.

Christian fell into the kiss as Olli guided him, a steady heartbeat over his own racing pulse acting to calm him further. It would be okay, wouldn't it? This was Olli, after all. He would make it okay. Olli's hands moved down from Christian's face and neck, sliding down his chest and pausing over his nipples to twist lightly, making Christian gasp and arch up, because okay, _that_ was new, and that felt incredible, jolting straight down to his cock and reenergising its interest in the proceedings. Oliver continued moving lower, his mouth following his hands as it mapped out Christian's shoulders, chest, stomach, and then down to his thighs, nudging them open until Christian raised one knee, cradling it against Olli's bicep as Olli sank down between Christian's legs.

"Here," murmured Olli, reaching up for Christian's hand, the one still wet with come, and guiding it down to cover Christian's own cock, and Christian couldn't resist; he could only drop his head back to the pillows and moan at the sensation of Oliver's come sliding over his own dick, slippery and filthy and no, God, he should not be enjoying this so much, but he couldn't stop. He opened his eyes to find Olli watching him, gazing up his body from his position between Christian's legs, and Christian held his eyes as he fisted himself, feeling his face colour and trying to stop his brain from racing off to the bad places.

He should say something, he decided. He should tell Olli how bloody amazing this felt, being with him like this, trusting him like this. He should tell him that the feel of Olli's warmth breath over his thighs and teasing his cock was threatening to make him come in his hand in about three more seconds. He should tell him that if they actually made it out of this night alive, and the universe didn't collapse the way Christian thought it might, that they should do this every night, every fucking night until the end of time, because the way Olli was watching him and touching him was something he would never, ever be able to turn his back on again.

But then Oliver lowered his head, pushing Christian's hand away, and Christian couldn't say any of those things now, because his entire body was overcome with the shattering sensation of Olli's mouth on his cock.

He gasped out a breath, punching the wall behind his head and clenching his stomach muscles, his lips falling open and his eyes fluttering shut. Oliver moved quickly, teasing him with his tongue at the tip and a strong fist around the base, and it was bloody expert, nothing like Coco's tentative licks that had always left him wanting more, wanting to grab her head and pour himself down her throat. This mouth was bigger, this tongue broader and this fist tighter, applying pressure in all the right areas at all the right times. _How does he know?_ Christian couldn't help but think before he mentally kicked himself. _He knows because he's done this before_. A ripple of jealousy flared through Christian's chest, so brief he almost didn't recognise it, before his brain moved on to another explanation: _He knows because he's got a dick, too, and he knows what he'd want a mouth to do to him_.

Oliver planted his free hand over Christian's stomach, splayed out to anchor him while his lips stretched wide around Christian's cock, taking him in deep before backing off again, establishing a rhythm at once predictable and uncertain. He paused every few strokes to flatten his tongue out and drag it up Christian's shaft, or to kiss the tip, or to graze his teeth, light and maddening, over the sensitive skin. It was the best fucking blow job of Christian's life, and he'd enjoyed his share, so that was saying something. He tried to keep his eyes closed but found it impossible; the allure of watching Oliver do this to him was too strong. His chest heaved as he gazed down, watching Olli's lips redden and listening to the moans Olli was making around Christian's cock, all the while trying to fight the spiral of pleasure crashing through his body.

"Olli," he warned, breathing out the name again and relishing the renewed shudder through his body evoked just by saying the name in that way, breathless and wanting. About half the girls he'd been with had swallowed, but he could never be sure what they would want to do, and although Coco had tried, admitting she thought she was supposed to like it, he knew she spit it out if she could get away with it when he collapsed back to the bed. What the hell did gay guys do? Was there some statistical data of probability for girls versus gay guys on spitting or swallowing? Christ.

But before he could think about it anymore or gather himself enough to push Olli away, Olli moved his free hand down, sliding it over Christian's stomach, down to his inner thigh and behind his balls, pressing his fingers over them while his mouth moved faster over Christian's cock. Those fingers, _fuck_, Christian couldn't stop watching Oliver's hand disappear between his legs, thinking about those fingers and letting the solid pressure of them spark all kinds of other ideas in his mind. What if Olli moved them back a bit, into his cleft and towards his– Oh, God. Oh, fuck.

His orgasm began deep in his body, swirling outward and seizing the muscles of his thighs and arse, causing his stomach to clench and his hands to instinctively ball into fists at his sides, pounding the mattress. He unfurled one long enough to curl it around the back of Oliver's neck, threading his fingers in Olli's hair to make sure he didn't even _think_ about stopping right now. God, what would it feel like to let Olli's fingers slide up from where they were still pressing over his balls, to let them move, wet with spit or lube or whatever gay guys used, and push inside him? The groan rose from his chest and his dick began to pulse as he imagined it, picturing Oliver's thick fingers fucking him open, Olli moving over top of him and sucking him and pressing into him, and God, Christ, Olli's _cock_, that would be next, wouldn't it? Olli's cock inside him, pinning him to the mattress, coming hard and– and –

With a choked shout, Christian lifted his hips and felt his orgasm explode in Olli's mouth, his dick pulsing jets of come down Olli's throat as his hand clenched in Olli's hair and sounds he'd never heard himself make before left his mouth. His eyes fell shut and a swirl of black and colour surged behind his lids, while his fingertips tingled and his entire body seared with heat. Chest heaving, he let his limbs fall back to the bed, relaxing slowly, before opening his eyes. Oliver was just lifting his mouth away, his lips red and his cheeks flushed as his tongue slid out to lap a stray drop of come from the tip. He raised his eyes to Christian's and held the gaze as he swallowed once more, wetting his lips and breathing hard, and Christian fought the urge to drag him up and kiss the moisture from those lips, to crush their mouths together again and lick all traces of himself from Oliver's tongue, but all of a sudden he couldn't; he hadn't the strength to do anything more than lie there, numb and shattered.

He watched Oliver's tongue disappear back inside his mouth and was blindsided again by fear and doubt and the slowly dawning horror that it hadn't been the blow job alone that had sent him over the edge, fucking Oliver's mouth as hard as he could; it had been the desire for even more than that, for acts he didn't even understand yet, but the very thought of trying them had just made his cock explode like nothing else.

_This is Oliver_, he thought with rising panic. _My flatmate, a friend, a _guy_. I just did... that... with a guy_. Oliver crawled up Christian's body and rested his head on Christian's chest, idly stroking his skin as it cooled, and Christian reflexively wrapped an arm around him, his fingers light in Olli's hair.

But still the panic mounted.

All the images that he had forced his mind to put on hold for the night came crashing back in. There was Gregor off to the right, finding out his brother was a faggot and refusing to speak to him again. There was Coco off to the left, trying to force supportive words out of her mouth even as her eyes brimmed with tears and all the ways he had let her down danced across her face. There were all his fellow students at the sports college fanned out before him, tough guys with bulging biceps who valued competition over camaraderie and would never tolerate a colleague who didn't have at least one woman hanging off each arm.

And then there was his father, directly in front of him.

After all they had been through, he couldn't do this to his father. He would never have understood, and every other sacrifice Christian had made for him would become void; he was sure of it.

"Should I get us something to drink?"

Oliver's voice floated back into his consciousness, and Christian struggled to swallow through his closing throat.

"No, thanks," he whispered, and that was it, that was all he could say, and that summed it all up anyway, didn't it? _Thanks, but no thanks_, he thought, a bitter laugh dying in his chest, and the weight of reality crashing over him was nearly too much to take, when his skin was still damp and his body was still on fire and his brain could not get past the fact that touching Oliver had been the most intimate and arousing experience of his life.

And he could never, ever let himself do it again.

He knew he owed Oliver an explanation; at the very least, he _had_ to say something, anything, as Oliver rose from the bed and gathered his clothes, silent but wearing every bit of his disappointment on his face, but he couldn't find the words.

"You're amazing," said Olli, twisting his shirt in his hands. "Really amazing." He cast one last, longing look at the bed before closing the door behind him, and Christian had a blinding flash of envy that it was so fucking easy for Olli, that he could just say things like that, let those words come out of his mouth without thinking twice about them, without repercussions, and it wasn't fair, not any of it, because Christian had never asked for this. He'd done everything he could to _avoid_ this, and still, here he was – naked in his bed with Oliver's come drying on the sheets and his own betraying mind unable to clear away the images of what they had just done. He sank back against the pillows, closing his eyes and trying to push down every image now seared into his brain of Oliver naked and wanting, pinning him to the bed and grinding against him, guiding his hands and mouth and his dick, Jesus, showing Christian everything he wanted and couldn't admit, but he shut it all down, locking it away in a place he wouldn't visit again.

Everything about Oliver led to feelings that he could never put into words, never say out loud, never release to the free flowing air to be swallowed up and taken away from him. Once they were said, that would be it, and that was the most terrifying thought of all.

 

-fin-


End file.
